Yes, the Cause was dead but war had always seemed foolish to her and peace was better. She had never stood starry eyed when the Stars and Bars ran up a pole or felt cold chills when“Dixie”sounded.She had not been sustained through privations, the sickening duties of nursing, the fears of the siege and the hunger of the last few months by the fanatic glow which made all these things endurable to others, if only the Cause prospered.It was all over and done with and she was not going to cry about it.
All over!The war which had seemed so endless, the war which, unbidden and unwanted, had cut her life in two, had made so clean a cleavage that it was difficult to remember those other care-free days. She could look back, unmoved, at the pretty Scarlett with her fragile green morocco slippers and her flounces fragrant with lavender but she wondered if she could be that same girl.Scarlett O'Hara, with the County at her feet, a hundred slaves to do her bidding, the wealth of Tara like a wall behind her and doting parents anxious to grant any desire of her heart.Spoiled, careless Scarlett who had never known an ungratified wish except where Ashley was concerned.
Somewhere, on the long road that wound through those four years, the girl with her sachet and dancing slippers had slipped away and there was left a woman with sharp green eyes, who counted pennies and turned her hands to many menial tasks, a woman to whom nothing was left from the wreckage except the indestructible red earth on which she stood.
As she stood in the hall, listening to the girls sobbing, her mind was busy.
“We'll plant more cotton, lots more. I'll send Pork to Macon tomorrow tobuy more seed.Now the Yankees won't burn it and our troops won't need it.Good Lord!Cotton ought to go sky high this fall!”
She went into the little office and, disregarding the weeping girls on the sofa, seated herself at the secretary and picked up a quill to balance the cost ofmore cotton seed against her remaining cash.
“The war is over,”she thought and suddenly she dropped the quill as a wild happiness flooded her. The war was over and Ashley—if Ashley was alive he'd be coming home!She wondered if Melanie, in the midst of mourning for the lost Cause, had thought of this.
“Soon we'll get a letter—no, not a letter. We can't get letters.But soon—oh, somehow he'll let us know!”
But the days passed into weeks and there was no news from Ashley. The mail service in the South was uncertain and in the rural districts there was none at all.Occasionally a passing traveler from Atlanta brought a note from Aunt Pitty tearfully begging the girls to come back.But never news of Ashley.
After the surrender, an ever-present feud over the horse smoldered between Scarlett and Suellen. Now that there was no danger of Yankees, Suellen wanted to go calling on the neighbors.Lonely and missing the happy sociability of the old days, Suellen longed to visit friends, if for no other reason than to assure herself that the rest of the County was as bad off as Tara.But Scarlett was adamant.The horse was for work, to drag logs from the woods, to plow and for Pork to ride in search of food.On Sundays he had earned the right to graze in the pasture and rest.If Suellen wanted to go visiting she could go afoot.
Before the last year Suellen had never walked a hundred yards in her life and this prospect was anything but pleasing. So she stayed at home and nagged and cried and said, once too often:“Oh, if only Mother was here!”At that, Scarlett gave her the long-promised slap, hitting her so hard it knocked her screaming to the bed and caused great consternation throughout the house.Thereafter, Suellen whined the less, at least in Scarlett's presence.
Scarlett spoke truthfully when she said she wanted the horse to rest but that was 0nly half of the truth. The other half was that she had paid one round of calls on the County in the first month after the surrender and the sight of old friends and old plantations had shaken her courage more than she liked to admit.
The Fontaines had fared best of any, thanks to Sally's hard ride, but it was flourishing only by comparison with the desperate situation of the otherneighbors. Grandma Fontaine had never completely recovered from the heart attack she had the day she led the others in beating out the flames and saving the house.Old Dr.Fontaine was convalescing slowly from an amputated arm.Alex and Tony were turning awkward hands to plows and hoe handles.They leaned over the fence rail to shake hands with Scarlett when she called and they laughed at her rickety wagon, their black eyes bitter, for they were laughing at themselves as well as her.She asked to buy seed corn from them and they promised it and fell to discussing farm problems.They had twelve chickens, two cows, five hogs and the mule they brought home from the war.One of the hogs had just died and they were worried about losing the others.At hearing such serious words about hogs from these ex-dandies who had never given life a more serious thought than which cravat was most fashionable, Scarlett laughed and this time her laugh was bitter too.
They had all made her welcome at Mimosa and had insisted on giving, not selling, her the seed com. The quick Fontaine tempers flared when she put a greenback on the table and they flatly refused payment.Scarlett took the corn and privately slipped a dollar bill into Sally's hand.Sally looked like a different person from the girl who had greeted her eight months before when Scarlett first came home to Tara.Then she had been pale and sad but there had been a buoyancy about her.Now that buoyancy had gone, as if the surrender had taken all hope from her.
“Scarlett,”she whispered as she clutched the bill,“what was the good of it all?Why did we ever fight?Oh, my poor Joe!Oh, my poor baby!”
